


Stories from the Silent District

by lollercakes



Series: Collections [8]
Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Drabble Collection, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-24
Updated: 2013-04-23
Packaged: 2017-12-09 08:51:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/772328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lollercakes/pseuds/lollercakes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of drabbles from the perspective of District 13 citizens.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tomas and Cassis

“This is her?” I whisper under my breath to Tomas who stands next to me in the medical bay. Together we look over the Mockingjay from a distance, our basic grey button down shirts standing out amongst the white coats that surround us and prattle on with clipboards.

“I guess so,” Tomas replies slowly and I watch as his gaze moves around the bay to the other bodies lying on slabs. They all lay unconscious, sedated after being pulled from the Arena, as we watch over them and wait for them to wake.

“She looks so... _Small_ and... Weak,” I continue. Tomas merely glares at me, shaking his head slowly.

“Did you pay attention in history? Do you remember what happens in the Arena, Cassis?” A flash of a greenscape with a wolf tearing at flesh flickers into my memory and I cringe. That was the video I remember watching of the Games – the only Games I’ve ever seen.

 “Didn’t they say in the briefing that there should be a boy as well?” I wondered aloud. I hadn’t seen him rescued, at least not the blonde one they’d described.

“I hear they had to leave him behind,” he responded with a shrug. It was my turn to glance at him with a frown.

“But aren’t they married? And what about the baby?” The thought turned my stomach. I’d seen the interviews, been privy to all the details as I was assigned to the Mockingjay’s task force, I knew this wasn’t going to work. “She is going to be useless to us without him.”

And we’d be stuck again underground. Just when I’d had hope of getting out and seeing the whole of Panem.

Growing up in District 13 we only know what we’re taught. Regimens are set from the day we’re born and there’s no breaking any of them for fear of being reprimanded. Nobody really knows what the punishment even is anymore; they just know it’s something bad. We don’t step out of line.

Instead we follow our tattooed schedules, showing up for course, learning our assigned trade, contributing to the hive. We survive by working together and by unifying ourselves as one. Individualism isn’t sought after.

Or at least it wasn’t until they told us about the Mockingjay.

In District 13 our education begins when we’re five. From that point on we learn what we’re told and we use what we know to help the district grow. Our history courses, the few of them that are mandatory, barely touched on the Games and what really happened in them. We simply knew that they were bad and because we were in District 13 we were safe. That was all we needed to know. Until now, at least.

 Hindsight tells us that the announcement of the war was gradual, that for the past few months since what Coin described as the ‘Reading of the Card’ our leaders have been pushing us towards this inevitable fight. We didn’t know it then but the way District 13 was changing – the way it gravitated towards an icon of rebellion – was only the beginning. When the announcement came about the Mockingjay we weren’t surprised so much as we were inspired. In our obedient way, District 13 stepped up to the challenge and began to prepare for war.

The once silent people finally began to roar.


	2. Pamal

Sometimes I look at her. Across the cafeteria, in the halls, when she’s escaping into the cupboards.

When she’s escaping into _my_ cupboards.

I used to hide there. That used to be _my_ spot. But two weeks ago I watched as she snuck inside and I _saw_ the look on her face and you know how sometimes you can just _tell_ when people need something? That was the look I saw on her face. She needed that cupboard more than I did. I could tell.

So I’ve stopped using it. I found a new one – there’s lots here in the hive and it would have been selfish to try to force her out.

Besides, she was the _Mockingjay_. I couldn’t say a thing to her, let alone ask her to get out of my hiding spot. That would be too forward and I’d probably get in trouble for breaking schedule.

Stupid schedules.

Watching is what I do best. I’m a Ditch Kid, the third offspring to an unexpecting match who thought they’d finished having kids after the Drought.

Let me explain otherwise you’ll have no idea what I’m talking about.

In District 13 the Drought had nothing to do with water. Or maybe it had something to do with the water – we aren’t quite sure – all we know is that a few years ago babies just stopped being born. The ovaries dried up just like a field in a drought. Not all babies stopped, but most. Some like me still pop out every once in a while but we’re the Ditch Kids – last ditch efforts by the district to continue on. Most people don’t think we’re quite right. Some think that maybe we’re cooked up in the burrows like the rumours say.

I don’t know any different. All I know is that I’m the reason my family lives in two compartments and ‘wastes valuable resources’.

I try not to spend any time there if I can help it. My dad isn’t the most welcoming, if you understand. We don’t like to talk about it here in 13 – whatever happens in your compartment stays there. So I try to not _be there_. It’s all I’ve got.

Now I spend my hours skipping course, catching glimpses of her as she wanders as aimlessly as I feel. Every so often I’ll see her scowl disappear and her brow furrow and her face just seem to crumple. Those are the days where I can watch her disappear into the cupboard and not come out for a real long while.

I know how she feels.

Today though I can’t help but watch her as she enters the cafeteria with that cousin of hers. Her face looks thinner and I wonder if she’s eating. I heard something about a video from the Capitol – a video of the boy – maybe that’s why she looks tired.

Watching from across the room I count slowly in my head the time it takes her to ease into her seat. She’s slower today than normal – that’s something you can measure. The slower you are the more your body hurts and if she’s anything like me her body hurts because she hurts. It might not be on the outside, but she’s hurting.

I wish I could give her my food. Tell her to eat. Tell her they’ll get him back because she’s the _Mockingjay_ and they do that kind of stuff for people they need. But then I remember the rules. I remember I don’t like being told what to do. And nobody ever needed me enough to try to make me hurt less.

That’s just the way of the hive. Move together or sink alone. Get ditched.

For somewhere so intent on keeping everyone in line, they sure do make it easy to disappear.


End file.
